


Back Home With You

by wintersoldier1989



Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersoldier1989/pseuds/wintersoldier1989
Summary: Smutty ficlet about Space baby Chris Beck coming home to his wife.
Relationships: Chris Beck & Reader
Kudos: 11





	Back Home With You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for @captainscanadian on Tumblr for her 1K follower chanllenge.

“What’re you in the mood for?” You ask him, making your way into the living room, a variety of take out menus in hand. 

Chris’s blue eyes don’t look up from the issue National Geographic in his lap. It’s just one of the many copies piled high on the end table; the ones you’d dutifully set aside for him while he was away. 

“What was that, babe?” He asks, not wanting to ignore you but clearly still wrapped up in whatever article has caught his interest.

It’s cute the way he’s always so absorbed in learning. It’s that same passion for knowledge along with remarkable dedication and patience that had pushed him through Med School and years of rigorous training at NASA. Your guy is a nerd through and through and it’s one of the qualities you love most about him. 

You walk closer to where Chris sits on the couch and position the menus on top of the open magazine, “Just wondering what you’d like to order for dinner. I was thinking we could do pizza and wings from Sal’s?”

He looks up at you, only pretending to give the menus a cursory glance before trapping them between the pages of National Geographic and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

You protest with a sharp _Hey!,_ annoyed that dismissed your question. Though the wide-eyed expression that’s looking back at you, sufficiently distracts your mild irritation. Chris’ bright shimmering blue eyes, clearer than the Caribbean water of your honeymoon, were like a swimming pool you’d love nothing more to drown in.

Without missing a beat, Chris’ hands find your hips and pull you closer to him. Surprised, you wobble a bit but his eager fingers are already cupping your ass; keeping you steady as you settle down onto his lap. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m not hungry,” he muses before he begins to trail soft nibbles and licks up on your skin. “Well, not for food anyway.”

You’d thrown on some sweat shorts and one of Chris’ NASA tees after your shared shower and yet the fabric didn’t deter your husband from finding skin to touch. With your knees straddling his hips, you feel your core begin to heat at the onslaught of kisses along your shoulder, where he’s tugging down the neckline of his shirt. 

“Dr. Beck, are you… are you flirting with me?” You ask, brow raised, wry smile on your lips.

“If you can’t tell, I must be out of practice,” he muses equally as playful, as he kisses you hungrily, as if to prove his point.

Leaning back to break the kiss, you ask him, “Couldn’t find anyone on the flight crew to flirt with?” 

He laughs at your joke; one of those full bellied laughs that you’d sorely missed. 

“Watney isn’t exactly my type, babe. Besides, no one can compare to my beautiful wife.”

Chris’ palms slide under your shorts, kneading your ass cheeks; his actions a dirty contrast to his flattering words. Instead of swatting his hands away from your butt, his sweet compliment has you looping your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him.

“Babe, we’ve barely left the bedroom since you got home,” you say bemused, finding yourself once again getting lost in the captivating sparkle of his eyes. It was just another thing you missed, imperceptible during his grainy video calls.

“You saying you’ve already had enough of me?” Chris asks, his hands wander to your thighs while his words tease. You can’t help but squirm under his touch.

“All you could talk about was how much you missed Sal’s deep dish every time you called, I was starting to think you missed him more than me.” 

“I missed you more than anything, sweetheart. But I didn’t think Vogel or Martinez really wanted to listen to me describe all the dirty things I was going to do to you when I got home. I would’ve never lived it down. Pizza was a safe topic of conversation; now, I’m just making up for lost time.”

You laugh again, but it quickly turns into a breathy moan when Chris’ lips trail up the column of your neck and give gentle sucks on your earlobe.

Chris’ skillful hands move away from your thighs and you whimper in disappointment, wanting him to untie the drawstring on your shorts and make you quiver with his skilled surgeon fingers. Though you’re quickly appeased when the warmth of his palms slip under your shirt instead. 

You keen into him, your nipples traitorously revealing just how ready you are for him. But Chris doesn’t rub his thumb over them, instead he rests his palm over your heart.

The gesture is comforting and reassuring on your bare skin. You don’t miss the profoundness of this quiet and intimate moment. Gone are the jokes and giggles, your pulse quickens not from arousal or want but simply from how much you love him.

With Chris back on solid ground, it’s impossible to deny him. To deny either of you.

You cover his hand with your own, holding him to you. After another beat you guide his hand to your breast.

“Remind me again what was on the list?” You ask him, your breath hitching as he finally brushes your sensitive nipples. “I’m sure we’ve crossed some things off of it by now.”

Your core clenches remembering all the ways he’s already taken you. Hard and fast, barely making in the door before he’d had you propped up on the small table in the entryway, the lamp crashing to the floor from all the unrestrained enthusiasm.

Next had been soft. He’d made a point of reacquainting himself with every inch of you, holding you close all while reminding you how much he loves you. Almost allowing you to forget all the nights you’d laid alone, in a bed that had felt much too big without Chris there next to you.

Most recently was the shower, where Chris had used way too much of your expensive body wash, soaping up both of you before kneeling on the tiled floor and making you see stars. You body flushed hot once again, catching the faint scent of warm vanilla sugar that lingers on his skin.

Instead of answering your question with words, Chris pulls you to him, taking you in a kiss so hot it steals your breath. Tongues move in tandem, feeling so easy and familiar but always exciting. No matter how long Chris is away, the passion and love between you never fades. The time and distance makes every touch all the more meaningful.

You grind against him, your hips insistently searching for more friction. You can feel Chris’ cock thicken in his sweats, clearly enjoying each rock of your hips as you rub against it. Which is impressive seeing how much use it had gotten in the past eight hours.

“Ugh, I can’t tell you how much I missed this. My hand is a sad substitute,” he whimpers against your lips.

“I imagine it’s kinda like trying to jerk off at summer camp,” you giggle at his admission, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. “Trying not to get caught by the counselors.”

He laughs into the kiss and it fills you with such joy to have him here with you, making memories that you’ll revisit countless times while he’s away on his next mission. 

“Plus with Martinez’s crucifix watching me; it was pretty much impossible to actually go through with it.”

You attempt to bite back a laugh at the thought of your husband in space, missing you and hungry for release but unable to escape the watchful eye of Jesus Christ. Despite your valiant attempt to empathize, a less than graceful the snort escapes.

“Space problems are real problems,” he pouts.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smirk when he shoots you a mock glare.

You reinforce your apology by dipping your hand between your bodies, sliding underneath his sweats and wrapping your fingers around his hard cock. “Did you think about the time we fucked in the planetarium?” You ask, knowing the dirty memory would work him up even more.

“I thought about you all the time,” Chris admits, eyes drifting closed when you give his length an experimental squeeze. His hand drifts up your side, fingertips ghosting over your ribcage, it sends a shiver up your spine. “How much I missed how you make my coffee, Lewis likes to drink fucking tar.”

You keep stroking his shaft, collecting the moisture beaded on his tip to slicken up his cock.

“I thought about how much I missed holding you close while you sleep. Even missed waking up to your little pool of drool on my pillow,” he continues, his lips quirking in a smirk.

“Hey!” You whine at his obviously _false_ accusation.

You retaliate, mercilessly circling his sensitive cockhead, his features pinch tight and his breath catches on the last few words.

“But mostly, I just spent my time hoping you were doing okay without me.”

Your chest aches at just how truly _good_ your husband is. You’d really won the lottery with him. He’s also saying and doing the sweetest things that remind you once again, of all the reasons you’d fallen in love with him many years ago.

“You’re a sweet guy, Dr. Beck,” you whisper to him, leaning in to give him a kiss. 

His eyes drift closed, his breath growing shallow as you and begin to quicken the pace of your strokes. You’re eager to see his skin flush and feel him tense beneath you, quickly followed by the way his beautiful features will scrunch up just before he comes.

Chris’ fist are balled tight on either side of your hips, his nostrils flaring on a heavy exhale. “Baby,” he pants, “I’m close.”

Nimble fingers wrap around your wrist and tug your hand from the warm and wet haven of his sweats. Chris lifts the hem of your top, revealing your bare chest. His tongue delicately traces around your nipple, eliciting sharp gasps of pleasure. Your back arches into each flick of his tongue and you can feel yourself getting even more wet.

Chris doesn’t let up when your hands tug roughly on his short strands, instead he moves his mouth to your other breast and starts again.

When you can’t take anymore, you push against his broad shoulders. Chris’ eyes are glassy, clearly just as drunk on arousal as you are. 

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he exclaims as you shift off of him and slip out of your shorts; your body on full display for him.

He reaches out to touch you, his fingers tracing along the swell of your breast all the way down to your hip bone. You watch him connect the faint red marks on your skin, marks you hadn’t noticed in the steamy shower but you had certainly felt.

You move to help your husband, he lifts his hips allowing you to tug the soft grey cotton down his legs. He jerks his length a couple times and then holds the base of his cock still, already reading your mind. 

You rise high on your knees, shifting a little awkwardly into place. You reach out to brace yourself with a hand on his shoulder. Sinking down onto his thick length, you can’t help the moan that escapes, it’s a perfect accompaniment to Chris’ salacious grunt. 

Chris wraps an arm around you, supporting you while you adjust and get comfortable. The sheer reverence and adoration in his expression is almost enough to nearly push you over the edge.

“I’m glad you’re home,” you tell him, meaning every word to its fullest. Your love for Chris has never wavered; but when he’s gone he always takes a little piece of your heart with him. And you suspect in its place you keep a piece of his.

Clinging to him, you begin to rock. Your hips are eager to find a rhythm to satisfy both of you. When you do, you clench around him and your husband mutters a deep moan of gratification.

Chris brings his thumb up to your mouth and you take it into your mouth without hesitation. Your tongue lapping around it before he reaches down and begins to rub your clit while you rut briskly against him.

“Come for me, baby.” He encourages, clearly noticing that you’re almost there. You certainly don’t miss the air of authority in his tone. Your husband is the softness and sweetness man you’ve ever met. But you know as well as his colleagues that when there’s a job to do, your man is all business. 

You feel the heat flooding your system, your whole body coiled tight, while he continues to push your closer to release with every sweep of his fingers and kiss of his lips.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, riding him harder now. Any grace or restraint you had is gone. Replaced by a primal and carnal desire. Your sharp cries fill the room when you finally collapse against him, the tidal wave of your orgasm nearly consuming you whole.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” He asks you, gently rubbing your back as your breathing slowly returns to normal.

“Fucking amazing,” you sigh. Your cheeks feel hot, and your limbs feel as though they might no longer be attached to your body.

“You ready for another one?” He asks.

You turn your heavy head to the side to meet his gaze. You nod but offer up one condition, “You’re going to have to do all the work.”

“Not a problem, Mrs. Beck,” he replies with a devilish smile, one that would look out of place at any other time, but with him still buried inside of you, it perfectly matches the want you see in his gaze.

He gently guides your back to the plush couch cushions even taking the time to prop your head up on a throw pillow.

His tenderness warms your heart, but you’re growing desperate for him again. Bending your knees wide you open yourself to him and the sight of your swollen and slick pussy makes him pant out a raw and laboured _fuck._

Chris swiftly positions himself over you, between your legs and you can feel his cock slide between your folds. He assaults your mouth with a forceful and dirty kiss while he coats himself in your come.

You’d missed having the weight of him pressed up against you. And when he finally buries his cock between your thighs, your high-pitched pleas eagerly match his heavy groans. The scarlet red of exertion creeps up his neck and tints the skin along his sharp cheeks while he thrusts deep, making you once again see stars as he pulls another orgasm from you while chasing his own. 

Wrapping a leg around him, you hold on tight. His pace is hard and unapologetic, but you don’t mind. You want him to take whatever it is that he needs and use you in any way that he wants. 

Chris’ face is hidden in the curve of your neck while his cock continues to drive into you. You can feel each strained exhale ghost over your skin. With one last jerk of his hips, Chris comes and the sound he makes is music to your ears. 

With an incredibly demanding career, burdened with life and death stakes; your husband doesn’t often get the chance to truly let his guard down and let go, but you’d made it your mission to give him as many opportunities as possible to do just that while he was back home. 

Slowly slipping out and rolling his weight off of you, Chris reaches to the floor and grabs his NASA tee.

“You’re getting your spunk all over my favourite shirt,” you complain while he tenderly cleans the both of you up as best as he can without getting up from the couch.

Chris reaches out, tucking wayward strands of hair behind your ear and silences your grievance with a kiss.

“I’ll get you another,” he promises. He lays down beside you and tugs you close, intertwining your limbs with his. Face buried against his chest, you can’t help but take a deep breath, the soothing scent of him, causes you to burrow in even closer.

These are your favourite moments; the quiet ones. They’re also the one you miss the most when he’s gone. 

Chris’ palm strokes slowly up and down your bare back. Feeling safe and warm in his hold, you feel your eyes begin to grow heavy. 

When his hand suddenly stills on your back, you’re sure he’s fallen asleep.

“Can we get double pepperoni?” He says in such a soft whisper that barely breaks the quiet.

“Ah, I see how it is,” you mumble against his pec.

“See how what is?” He asks confused, shifting both of you so he can look you in the eye.

“Your priorities,” you tease with a smile. “Sex first _then_ Sal’s pizza.”

Chris lets out a brazen laugh, so big and loud that it jostles you. You can’t help but join at the purity of the joyful sound.

“Damn straight, sweetheart. Not even Sal and his delicious pizza can compete with my baby.”


End file.
